


Testing My Patience

by aheadfullofwrackspurts



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Gen, Sulking Sherlock Holmes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-02
Updated: 2019-05-02
Packaged: 2020-02-16 01:09:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,183
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18681055
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aheadfullofwrackspurts/pseuds/aheadfullofwrackspurts
Summary: Just a little glimpse of an average morning on Baker's Street.





	Testing My Patience

**Author's Note:**

  * For [consultmeforcumberbatch](https://archiveofourown.org/users/consultmeforcumberbatch/gifts).



> Hello All!
> 
> This is just a little one-shot I wrote for my sister, consultmeforcumberbatch, as a thank you for editing my stories. I have only ever written Harry Potter Fanfiction's so this was certainly a challenge for me. I hope that I have done this amazing show justice!
> 
> Enjoy!

Sherlock was never one to engage in idle conversation. Hence, when Mrs Hudson appeared in the doorway with his morning tea and biscuits, which were precariously balanced on the wobbling tea tray, he blatantly ignored her. Instead he continued to stare out of the window of his flat in Baker’s street, playfully analysing anyone who moseyed along the street below.

To claim that he was sulking would be a huge understatement. It had been an agonising twenty-six hours since having a case to solve. As of late, nothing had been remotely intriguing and he found himself wasting his time with petty cases such as an elderly woman whom insisted that her garden gnomes were being stolen. Later he was informed that there was never a gnome thief, just an exasperated grandson who was attempting to look out for his senile grandmother. 

“No matter how long you stare out of that window, nothing is going to appear out of thin air!” Mrs Hudson stated, rudely interrupting his deductions of a rather plump middle aged man, who he knew had been cheating on his wife just by inspecting the creases in his shirt collar. Although it was difficult to determine whether he was seeing a man or a woman from this distance.

“What a ridiculous notion.” Sherlock spat, sighing heavily as he turned towards his meddling land-lady. Mrs Hudson, though rather old, managed to put most of the younger generation to shame at how much she achieved during the day. It was rather early in the morning, yet she was already clad in a knee length fuchsia dress, which he distinctly recalls her complaining ‘drains her like a blood-sucking leach,’ according to one of those infernal fashion television shows she is so intent on watching.

“If for once people opened their eyes…” Sherlock continued, “…then you would notice that there are endless situations to deduce from merely gazing out of the window.” He finished, sweeping over to collect his tea and a ginger nut before slumping back down in his leather chair, continuing to scrutinise the general public.

“Now now, Sherlock, no need to get your knickers in a twist.” Mrs Hudson scolded playfully. “I’m sure a case of kidnapping will crop up soon enough. You should be pleased that the city is peaceful for once.” She stated, taking it upon herself to become comfortable on the vacant brushed armchair opposite.

“Urgh, peaceful. Peaceful is boring.” Sherlock muttered annoyedly, sipping his tea and still petulantly refusing to even glance at his company.

With that, the landline started ringing and still, Sherlock continued to gaze out of the window. He let the phone ring for a few moments before his eyes darted towards the lady occupying the opposing armchair. Sherlock didn’t have to say a word as she vacated her seat with a heavy sigh.

“For the last time, I am not your house keeper!” She said hotly as she stormed out of the room in pursuit of the phone.

Finally, the incessant tone had stopped ringing and Mrs Hudson ambled back into the living room, phone in tow.

“Yes, alright!” She muttered exasperatedly. “Just don’t expect to get anything out of him today, he is in a right strop!” Mrs Hudson declared, glaring accusingly over at Sherlock.

“I am not! Though it depends who is on the phone.” He whispered as he was handed the infuriating device.

“Hello there…brother dear.” Drawled the voice at the end of the telephone and Sherlock fought the urge to throw the blasted thing out of the window and on to the street below. 

“What is it, Mycroft? I’m having a bad enough day as it is without you tainting it.” Sherlock spat in between nursing his cup of tea.

“Good morning to you too.” Mycroft replied sarcastically. “Believe me, I would not dream of inconveniencing you unless this were a matter of national importance…”

“Then if you would be so merciful to get on with it then, brother mine, I would be eternally grateful. Some of us have work to do rather than sit on our backsides, reading the paper and gorging ourselves.”

“Oh yes, the case of the missing garden gnomes…very taxing. Even I thought you capable enough to deduce that the woman has a severe case of Dementia.” Mycroft sneered.

“Alzheimers to be exact. Though she suffers, and is currently being treated for Schizophrenia, going by the powdered pill dust caked beneath her fingernails.”

“Very impressive…” Mycroft said sarcastically. “In that instance, perhaps you need a case which is a slightly more…stimulating, lets say.”

“If you have something to propose than I suggest you get on with it. My patience is wearing thin.” Sherlock warned impatiently.

“Very well.” Mycroft conceded. “It seems as though a particular group of gangsters find it hilarious to graffiti my…”

“For God’s sake, I’m not a ruddy PCSO! Go and speak to someone who cares about you and your colleagues’ precious cars being defiled!” Sherlock spat as he hung up the phone and slammed it down on the coffee table. 

“What was all that about?” Someone voiced from the doorway.

Spinning around he saw John stifling a yawn as he ran his hand through his tangled mass of hair. 

“Just my darling brother being a nuisance as always.” Sherlock stated simply before falling back into his chair, fearing it would be stolen if he didn’t plant his arse in it straight away.

“What did he want this time?” John asked as he stirred a teaspoon of sugar into his tea, tapping the spoon on the edge of the cup before lowering himself into the chair that Mrs Hudson had recently vacated. 

“To test my patience once again it would seem. Apparently he deemed it necessary to contact myself, a consulting detective, to delegate ASBOs to a group of low-lifes that find it amusing to vandalise vehicles.”

Sherlock looked over and saw John hiding a smirk behind his tea cup. 

“Heaven forbid that the police force get off their arse and do something.” 

“Indeed.” Sherlock agreed as he continued to fidget in his seat and tap his fingers repetitively against the adjoining coffee table.

“Do you ever sit still?!” John commented, glaring at him as if he were some sort of disruptive child. 

“No, because unlike the average village idiot, I do not waste my time festering in front of the television!” Sherlock snapped as he continued to fidget.

John rose from his chair and set his tea cup down. 

“Right, get dressed, we’re going out.” John ordered as he wandered into the adjoining kitchen.

“Where?!” Sherlock called out.

“To the shop!” John shouted back. “If you are going to sulk you might as well make yourself useful!”

Sherlock huffed and remained sitting as John popped his head back around the door frame.

“Are you going to move then or just sit there and wallow in self pity?” John asked before retreating to his bedroom.

Swearing under his breath, Sherlock dragged himself out of his chair moodily, knowing he had hit an all time low to willingly go grocery shopping. 


End file.
